


Thieves Among Us

by the_maybe



Series: Thieves [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (from 2013 onwards), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cancer, Canon Asexual Character, Fix-It, Gen, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Season/Series 01, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Specifically Gerry lives but tbh i just want them to be happy, i keep making up artifacts i cannot be stopped, no beta we die like men, taking a little break from updating but i will be back soon <3, touch averse jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24943579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_maybe/pseuds/the_maybe
Summary: Or, AU where Jon doesn't quit smoking in 2012... But also Gerry lives cos I’m not a monster.
Relationships: Gerard Keay & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Thieves [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854781
Comments: 26
Kudos: 108





	1. Two Times Jon Needs a Lighter

**Author's Note:**

> This is very rough, but I don't care! I wanted to get this chapter out before the end of pride month, so happy pride! Also, just general warnings, Gerry still has a brain tumor, there wont be much detail about his symptoms or treatment, but it is plot-relevant for quite a while.  
> Oh, and the title is from Thieves by She and Him  
> Content Warnings in the end notes.

Gerard stepped through the doors to the courtyard behind the institute. He stared up at the old building and sighed. The courtyard was empty, mostly because it was grey and dingy where the sun couldn’t reach and there was nowhere to sit, which tended to deter employees from taking their lunch break out there, but he could hear chatter filtering down from the open windows and the light noise of traffic and pedestrians on their lunch breaks from the street out in the front. Which reminded him, he hasn’t eaten today. He let the noise wash over him to distract from the buzzing in his ears, lit a cigarette he’d rolled as he sat on the tube on the way to the institute, and took a drag, sighing again.

It was as he did this, the quiet was broken; Gerard heard the doors open behind him and he whipped around, taken by surprise. He had to stop himself breathing out his relief when he saw it was just a man, probably from the library, or maybe research by the looks of him; slight, and dressed in muted colours, and was about to turn back to face into the courtyard when he saw surprise on this new person’s face, clearly not expecting to see anyone else out here. His eyes flitted about, and he actually looked as though he was considering turning around, hand still on the door, but after a moment, he took a couple of stiff steps further into the courtyard, now reaching into his jacket pocket for something.

The man looked up and caught him staring. Gerard quickly looked away. He hadn’t been _staring_. Just looking. Checking for danger. That’s perfectly reasonable. He wondered if the eyes watching him were Beholding, or if it was just this man. He didn’t look again to check though, even when the man cleared his throat.

“Um, excuse me,” he began, as though he would rather do anything but draw attention to himself, and Gerard finally looked back, “I don’t suppose I could borrow your lighter?” He had an unlit cigarette between his fingers which he lifted slightly, as if needing to justify his request.

“Sure, uh,” Gerard reached into the pocket of his own jacket and ran his thumb across the pattern on its face as he handed it over. “Here.” The corners of his mouth twitched in a small smile which the other man did not return.

“Thank you.” He took it, but as he was about to flick it open, he stopped, and frowned slightly, tilting his head. His thumb brushed gently over the engraved eye, mirroring Gerard’s own gesture, before frowning again and lifting the flame to the cigarette now between his lips.

Gerard didn’t like to watch people. He found all the new information his brain had to handle when he saw a person very tiring. He had read somewhere that the people you see in your dreams have to be people you’ve encountered before, because the human face is too complicated for your brain to create new ones, so it just draws from a bank of them that you’ve already seen. That seemed about right to him. Faces were difficult. Difficult to remember, difficult to recognise. That, along with the fact he had become very adept at knowing when someone had been touched by an entity, and all the guilt and fear that came with it, usually led him to keeping his head down. The problem is, when a person borrows from you an important object, it’s pretty useful to keep an eye on them, pardon the expression. So, as Gerard watched this man, he was caught in the unfortunate knowledge that the mark of the web was woven deep in him.

He sighed.

“Oh- ah, sorry,” the man stuttered as he hastily handed the lighter back. Gerard frowned in confusion at the apology- _Oh, he thinks I’m sighing at him._

“No worries.” He tried his best for a friendly smile, but now he had looked at the man, he couldn’t stop looking, which he knew carried the danger of coming across as intimidating. “You work here then?” he tried again.

The man looked at him for a second before answering, “Yes.” They both stared at each other, waiting for someone to continue, “Um, you- I don’t think I’ve seen you before?”

“No, I’m just dropping something off,” Gerard replied as vaguely as he could.

“Oh, right- ah, sorry, I wasn’t trying to be nosy. I- I just work in the research department,” he nodded his head slightly in the direction of what Gerard assumed to be research. “Sorry, that’s, ah-” he shook his head, “good. Means I didn't just not recognise someone I’ve worked with for two years.” Gerard almost laughed as he wondered if he meant to say that last part aloud.

“Don’t worry about it, mate. S’pose I should expect that sort of thing here anyway.”

The man shifted his weight uncomfortably before looking back up at him, as if he expected him to continue. He did not, and they fell into an awkward silence, the man looking at something on his phone, until he whispered a small “Oh.”

His posture relaxed considerably, and he even smiled a little, looking up from his phone, not quite at the sky, but allowing himself a moment where he seemed honestly content, before dragging his attention back to his phone, although still more relaxed than before. And because Gerard apparently could not keep his mouth shut, without thinking he blurted out,

“Someone special?”

His eyes widened and he stared at Gerard for a second, then back down at his phone, opening his mouth and closing it again.

“It’s- I, I- uh,” he let out a breath through his nose, and made a good effort in an approximation of a polite smile, “just some good news, I suppose.”

Gerard, who had been mentally chastising himself for his curiosity --and Beholding as well, while he was at it-- and trying to come up with an apology, was so surprised by how the man’s attitude had changed in the space of milliseconds, he almost didn’t hear his response.

“Oh.” He breathed a laugh. “Well, congratulations?” he tested, and the air around them, where a minute ago it had been tense, was now open and light. He took a drag of his cigarette and looked at his feet. He was glad of his hair hanging down, as he wasn’t sure exactly what his face was trying to do, but he had a feeling it might not have passed for a warm smile, given his pulsing headache.

“Thank you.” The man had looked away and back at his phone again. Despite starting his cigarette after Gerard, finished it first and hastily stubbed it out on the wall, flicking it into the bin. He darted a glance to Gerard, who, Gerard surprised himself to realise, was watching the poor bloke again. There was some sort of look on his face which Gerard couldn’t read. There may have been a friendly smile between them, although really it was anyone’s guess at this point, and the man walked back into the institute.

Gerard wondered if he sighed too much, as he sighed again, and let the back of his head thud against the brick wall behind him. That didn’t help his headache. It didn’t make it worse though, so he did it again. The second time might have made it worse actually. He finished his cigarette and checked his wallet to see if he could afford anything stronger. A resounding no on that front it seemed. He managed not to sigh a final time as he made his way back into the archives though; that had to count for something.

‘*’

Usually if Gerard met someone, he was unlikely to meet them a second time. If he managed to get as far as exchanging a few words with them, it was almost certainly because they were in danger, which didn’t exactly lend itself to forming any meaningful relationships, especially since they were either going to die, or if they managed to survive, had no desire to be reminded of this in any capacity. And if they weren’t in danger then he had no intention of bringing any of his own into their life.

So when he recognised a small man with the mark of the Spider on a tube station platform, a month after their first meeting, he was unfortunate enough to have a very good reason for being there. He’d followed a woman whom he knew to be in possession of a nasty Leitner which seemed to cause the reader to experience a prickling sensation of being covered in bugs, which had put him in mind of the crawling rot, but all the victims he had found described the feeling as spiders specifically. Not that it really mattered; fire would work nicely against either. Except that tailing a woman home at night wasn’t exactly something he was comfortable with, and he definitely didn’t want to make himself any more obvious than he already was.

It was just his luck that as the train pulled into the platform, the man stepped into the second car, and the woman walked on after him. It was fine. He could keep an eye on them both from the other end of the car, he thought, as he entered through the other door. Most of the seats were filled, and there were some people standing throughout the car, few enough to give him a clear line of sight to the woman, but it was enough to pose an issue if she spotted him and decided to make a scene. He cringed as the thought came to him, very aware of himself. 

His thoughts turned back to the man, who was gripping hard to the rail in front of him and looking down. Gerard hoped he wouldn’t run the risk of being recognised from this distance, but was conscious that he had very little in the way of cover from either of them. The woman seemed to be casually taking in her surroundings, his gaze flicked over to the man again for a moment, but when he returned to watch the woman, his eyes met hers. He attempted to look around as she had been doing, but he could feel her gaze on him, still. He stared resolutely at the ground as he tried to decide what to do. He worried that if he looked away for too long, she’d move or he’d lose her. And, he thought, as the train pulled into the next station, he needed to know when she was getting off.

When he looked up, it was at the man instead. Maybe he was getting off here and he could stop worrying. But his eyes were still trained firmly downward, and made no move to leave. Gerard’s mouth tightened slightly almost in a grimace. Without meaning to his gaze fell back to the woman, who was still staring right at him. He noticed how close she was to the other man.

And then, so did she.

She raised an eyebrow at him as the train pulled away from the station again, and he tensed as he tried very hard not to show his panic. She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick paperback with a flimsy-looking cover, all the while looking innocently back at him. It was at that moment he remembered how exhausted he was, because he couldn’t for the life of him think what to do. He could see her closing the gap between her and the researcher, see her mutter something to him, see her handing him the book, opened to a page in the middle, pointing at it. He watched helplessly as the man took it, opening his mouth to say something, but his eyes glazed over for a second, before widening in shock. The woman smiled, satisfied, before walking away into the next car. Gerard’s mind kicked back into gear and he started moving to follow her, but as he did, the man gasped.

He shook his hand hard, once, and a couple of other commuters briefly shot confused glances at him, but he didn’t seem to notice, still staring at the back of his hand in terror. He shook it again, more vigorously this time, and then brushed it with the other hand, then shaking that one, but whatever he could see had apparently not been affected by any of this. Gerard could see the desperation rising in the book’s new victim as he held his hands out in front of him, frozen to the spot. Gerard looked around as he started making his way across the carriage with purpose, and spotted the book lying on the floor where the man had dropped it in his panic. He pulled his sleeve over his hand as he approached it, bending down to pick it up and drop it carefully into his coat pocket. He looked hastily back to the other man as he did, who was now paralysed in fear, hands still in front of him, his whole body remaining perfectly still, except for an involuntary tremor wracking through him.

Distantly, Gerard heard a voice through the speakers announcing the next station, and he made his decision. He brought one hand up to rest as light as he could just above the man’s elbow, but he flinched back violently. Gerard retracted his hand quickly as he heard him let out a small whimper and searched his face.

“You need to get off the train,” he whispered, “can I help you?” The man squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Gerard lifted his hand again slowly, “Can I?” It hung there for a moment until he slowly opened his eyes and forced himself to nod stiffly. Gerard’s hand fell gently back onto the man’s arm. “We need to get off at this stop, and then I can get rid of the spiders, okay?” He tried to ignore the feeling of eyes on him. The man nodded again, marginally less tense this time, and he guided him carefully to the doors, and holding onto the handrail tightly with his other hand to keep them both upright as the train jolted to a stop. Gerard pulled the man in close to shield him from the other passengers getting off, and led him towards the exit.

He was about to ask if he had a ticket, but one look at his face told him he was in no state to get his wallet out. “Never mind, here, we’ll go this way,” steering them down an empty corridor and lowering the man to the ground, but his hand shot out to grab Gerard’s sleeve, eyes wide with fear.

“I’m not going anywhere, I need to burn this book,” he reassured him, pulling out the Leitner with his free hand, “that’s why you’re seeing the spiders. See how they’re not on me?” The man nodded, “And when I burn it, they’ll go away, but I’ll need my arm back. You can keep your eyes closed if that would help?” He slowly released his grip, but didn’t take his eyes off the book. Gerard thanked him as he took out his lighter and held the flame to the corner until it caught, tilting it and watching as the fire licked across the edge of the pages. They both watched in silence for a while, and eventually, when he was satisfied that the flames wouldn't die, he put the book on the ground a few feet away and went to sit next to the man.

“They gone yet?”

“No.” His voice came out as a hoarse whisper, “I can’t see them, but I can still feel them. On me.”

“I’m sorry. That should go away soon.” The man didn’t respond. “Hey, what’s your name? Don’t think I asked last time.”

He looked confused for a second, “Jon,” he replied, and Gerard wondered if he was telling the truth.

“Hi, Jon,” he hesitated, not entirely willing to give his full name either, “I’m Gerry. Mind if I smoke?”

Jon huffed a surprised laugh, “Oh, I don’t know. Not sure you’re allowed to smoke down here.”

“Oh, so you don’t mind book burning, but you draw the line at smoking indoors? Good to know.”

“I didn’t say that. Maybe if we can disguise the smell of book smoke with the smell of cigarette smoke, we’ll only get kicked out rather than arrested.”

Gerry laughed, “You know what, you’re absolutely right. Want one?”

“Oh, uh, n- no thanks, I-” he almost reached into his pocket, but hesitated, hand shaking slightly. “Actually, please, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” Gerry pulled out a packet of tobacco and cigarette papers and began to roll one. “I usually roll them on the tube, but, you know, didn’t have a chance to. What with the weird lady and her spooky book.”

Jon stayed quiet and Gerry winced. “Sorry. Here you go,” he handed him the first cigarette by way of apology for expertly putting his foot in his mouth.

“Thanks.” Gerry could feel eyes on him again, could feel Jon watching his fingers lay out the tobacco and filter, and roll it with practiced ease. He felt strangely self-conscious; Beholding might have been preferable at that point. He lit it, but Jon was still staring, his own cigarette unlit in his hand.

“Ah, shit, sorry, you want a light?” He handed him his lighter hastily and looked away, but when he didn’t hear the click of it opening, he turned back to see him tracing the design of an eye on its face, just like he had last time, his eyes wide. Before he could say anything, Gerry continued, “How are you feeling now?”

“Oh, uh,” Jon looked over to where the book had been to see a pile of ashes in roughly the shape of a book, still smouldering. “I suppose I- I think I’m okay. I should probably be going. Here,” he passed both the unlit cigarette and the lighter back to Gerry and pushed himself to his feet, “Sorry. For all-” he gestured vaguely, “thank you for your help. I should go,” and turned quickly to leave.

Gerry’s eyes widened in shock, “No- hey, wait,” he pushed off the floor with a groan. “Can I at least call you a cab? You-”

“I’m perfectly capable, thank you,” he snapped, and stalked back in the direction they had come from.

Gerry almost called after him again but caught himself. _Not in the business of helping strays. He said he was fine, he’s not your problem anymore._ He ground his teeth as he watched the embers of the Leitner burn out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Brain tumor related headaches. An arachnophobe reads a Leitner that convinces him he is covered in spiders, and subsequent panic, from the perspective of another character. A woman is followed by a man on the train, without sexual or romantic intent.  
>  (Please let me know if I've missed anything, also if I say anything shitty, feel free to call me out, but only if you're nice about it)
> 
> I hate spiders. This is literally my worst nightmare. Sorry Jon. Take a shot (of water) every time I say “the man”, stay hydrated kids. Writing is hard. I don’t know if people often roll cigarettes on the tube, but I’ve seen people do it on buses and trains, so I’m guessing that’s not that weird.


	2. Strays are helped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon tries to get information and Gerry forgets to have common sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this chapter in two (for reasons which will become clear), so it’s a bit shorter than the last one. I hope you like it :) Content warnings in the end notes

“Well, yeah, obviously it wasn't ideal, Gertrude," Gerry said, putting extra emphasis on the name, "but I didn’t want her attention on me any more than was necessary. What did you want me to do? It was her or the book. And I’m not a hunter. If you wanted her dead, you could have done it yourself.”

“Alright,” Gertrude replied, “don’t let's argue over this. I trust your methods; you know I do.”

Gerry sucked his teeth, but then sighed, forcing himself to relax. “Alright. You said there was an artifact.” His eyes widened in mock terror.

“Be sensible, Gerard. But yes, a picture frame. It had been in artifact storage, but it was stolen recently.”

“By an employee? Do you know who?”

“An employee seems like the likely culprit, but we can’t rule out a visitor. You can check the logs.”

“Wait, hang on, what does it do?”

“All the information should be in Artifacts,” she answered shortly, “I’m sorry, Gerard, I really am very busy, and I don’t have all the answers, you will have to ask them.”

“I- yeah, sure. Sorry, yeah, I know.” Gerry nodded at a box on her desk. "Don't tell me when you're gonna do it, but do it soon. You wont have long." His hand was on the doorknob as he turned to leave, but he stopped, looking back at her, “Oh, and, you don’t know a Jon in research, do you?”

“There are two, I believe, was it Bryant or Sims?” she said, making no indication that she'd heard his previous statement. Gerry looked blankly at her. “The loud one or the grumpy bastard?”

He laughed, “Dunno, I don’t suppose you’d call him loud, but he could’ve been lying about his name, I guess. He's short, if that helps?”  
“Sims, then.” She narrowed her eyes, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just bumped into him the other day. I don’t know, he… never mind. Sorry. I’ll get going now.” He swung the door closed behind him. _Shit. Shit, why did I ask her that? Stupid. You may as well have gone “Oh, Jon in research might make a good snack if you're feeling peckish,”_ Gerry grimaced. Maybe he should go and check on him. He climbed the stairs from the archives towards the courtyard. It must be around lunch time by now, Jon might be on his lunch break, he might not even-

“Oh!” Gerry almost walked into a figure as he opened the heavy door to the courtyard, and took only a moment to notice the familiar Web mark, “Jon?”

Jon looked up at him, searching his face in confusion, “Um-”

Realisation hit Gerry: he didn’t recognise him. He couldn’t feel hurt at this, though, not when he was so dreadful at recognising people himself. “Gerry?” he tried, “From, uh…” he grimaced again, “... the train?”

Jon stared for a moment before his eyebrows shot up suddenly, frozen to the spot.

“Ah, shit, sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t stalking you or anything, I just- I knew you worked here? And I just wanted to make sure you were okay?” He shook his head, “Nope, that’s not less creepy, uh, no, what I meant was that I happened to be here, and I hoped I’d bump into you again.”

They looked expectantly at each other. Finally, Jon spoke,

“Here as in…?”

“Oh! The archives. And I need to pop into artifact storage quickly before I go.”

“Um… okay?” Jon frowned.

“Are you?” Gerry asked.

“What?”

“Okay? Are you alright? You just left in a hurry last time, I didn’t get a chance to make sure there weren’t any side effects or-”

“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.” Gertrude was right, he was a bit of a grumpy bastard. Then Gerry felt a bit guilty.

“No, I get it, sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” he replied, “it was shitty of me to corner you at work, I know it’s not fun having one of them- those books- set on you.”

Jon’s eyes widened and he chewed the inside of his cheek, then said so softly that Gerry wasn’t even sure if _he_ heard it, “Was it a Leitner?”

“Yeah,” Gerry spoke almost as softly, “you- you know about Leitners?”

He rolled his eyes at that, and then said at normal volume, “I work here, don’t I?”

Gerry laughed, “Yeah, alright, fair enough. I can never tell how much someone knows though, you know?” Then he realised they were still standing in the doorway letting the heat out, and decided to usher Jon back out into the courtyard, before letting the door swing shut after them. “Nasty one that one. What do you reckon, Web or Corruption?”

Jon frowned. “What do you mean?”

It’s not uncommon for a person to assume something about another person, based on their own experiences and biases, and these assumptions often benefit one person or another. In a few minutes, Gerry would feel that his assumption that Jon knew about Smirke’s Fourteen was a very bad one for him. He might even say that it only brought harm and didn’t benefit anyone. He would be wrong.  
“Well, I figured, since you were the one that got Got by it, as it were, you might have some insight? I thought it was the Corruption, what with all the feeling of your skin crawling, itching, hmm, being touched by something that might burrow inside you.” Jon flinched and Gerry grimaced. “Sorry. But that’s exactly what I mean! That’s what you felt, isn't it? And that’s the Corruption.”

Jon stared at something off to the side of Gerry’s arm for a moment, chewing his cheek again, “Yes. That’s- that’s what it was like. But I don’t feel, um, _corrupted_ now.” He squinted up at Gerry as if to gauge his reaction.

“Well, that’s good!” He offered him a reassuring smile, “No lasting damage? The crawling feeling’s gone?”

“N- No, well, yes, I think so? I um, well, I expect it’s largely psychosomatic. What were you saying about a web?”

Jon changed the subject so quickly, Gerry feels guilty all over again. _What do you expect? Of course he doesn’t want to talk about his trauma with a man he’s met twice._ He shrugged, “Gertrude was under the impression that, because it was spiders, the book was Web-aligned. I mean, it’s _called_ Book of The Spider, it’s even _about_ the fear of spiders, and spider lore, so you’d think it was the Web, except that that's all about the fear of being manipulated too, that you’re being controlled by outside forces you can’t see.”

“... Web-aligned. Right…”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure there’s a Leitner in Artifacts, The Key of Solomon, that’s connected to a bunch of different entities, so- have I lost you? Shit, I- you didn’t- how much _do_ you know about these things, the Web and that? I just assumed if you knew about Leitners-”

“The Web, as you call it, it’s- some of the Leitners, relating to the feeling that your will is not your own? Like you’re caught in a Web, hence the name, so that’s how it relates to spiders. But then some of them are different; I’m fairly certain those they have in artifact storage, they aren’t all about spiders. But you think the one that- that you burned, it was, what, Corruption? So Leitners like that make your skin crawl. But, I mean, I assume-”

“Jon. _Jon_.”

“What?” Jon snapped.

“There are some things you’re better off not knowing.” Gerry looked at him and the sadness he suddenly felt almost outweighed the crushing guilt that he’d come so close to dragging the poor man deeper into all this. He could blame the Eye, or the Web, or even the Lonely, but he knew it was all him. His selfishness, his desire to have someone, anyone to talk to, it didn’t matter how much he could hurt them, how much danger he put them in, danger he’d already put Jon in, under the guise of trying to keep him safe. He squeezed his eyes shut against a wave of dizziness that struck him, bracing his hand against the wall. “Listen, Jon,” Gerry opened his eyes and tried to focus on him and then-

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs: Brain tumor related blackout at the very end.
> 
> Anyway, catch me borrowing dialogue from mag 111 which I've read about fifty times at this point.


	3. Jon meets a nice old lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon POV as promised. Jon has a bit of a crisis, but he's trying, featuring Sasha and obnoxiously-loud-other-John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was an absolute beast to write, it’s not even 1800 words and it’s taken me 6 days rip. I'm well aware that really it doesn't actually need to be here, but I didn't realise that until after i spent 6 days writing it so I'm hardly going to scrap it.  
> Also I had to spend ages looking over a script my dad is writing which managed to trigger both my sex and romance repulsion at the same time! So that was fun  
> Content warnings in the end notes.

Jon was sitting in what could generously be described as an uncomfortable chair in a hospital waiting room. He wasn’t even exactly sure which hospital he was in, the journey in the ambulance had been a bit of a blur. Apparently Gerry had had some sort of seizure? He knew Gerry wouldn’t want to see him, but he felt guilty. Okay, no, Jon wanted to get more information out of him. It was only once he got to the hospital he realised what an absolutely insane thing he was doing. He’d met this man, what, twice? Three times if he included that time in February when he’d borrowed a weird lighter from a goth, who he now had cause to believe was the same man from the train. How many goths with weird lighters could there possibly be in London? Probably lots, actually, he conceded. But the Gerry from… the station, and the Gerry he met today at the institute were surely the same as the person he embarrassed himself in front of in February. He was fairly certain Gerry had mentioned not asking his name ‘last time’ which definitely implied that they’d met before.

God, what was he doing? He’d left work early to sit in a hospital waiting room for a man he’d met maybe three times! Barely an acquaintance, let alone a friend! Wait, could he get fired for this?

Oh, God.

He chewed the skin around his thumb and then forced himself to stop doing that. And then inevitably started doing it again as his mind wandered back to what they’d been discussing.

He hadn’t meant to lie. _I mean, it was_ barely _a lie._ he told himself. _I just let him believe I knew what he was talking about. And keep talking about ‘corruption’ and something called ‘the Web.’_ The sick need for information had overtaken him, he had to find out what they had to do with Leitners. He reached for his bag to get a pen and paper- _shit_ he’d left it at work. Was there a shop here? Sometimes they have a WHSmith or the like in hospitals where you can get snacks, right? Oh- he hadn’t had lunch either. He should head back to the institute, get his bag and his laptop and come back to the hospital. He checked his watch. It was 2:30. If he went back to work, he couldn’t come back until the end of the day, and what if Gerry had left by then? There was no telling when he’d see him again, and he needed answers, so he couldn’t leave.

What was he doing?

Jon got up from the chair and walked straight for the exit. He didn’t even turn to check which hospital he was at. That is until he heard a voice behind him,

“Excuse me?”

“I- Oh, uh, can I help you?” An elderly woman in a burgundy cardigan with grey hair scraped into a bun stood, almost timidly, on the stairs up to the automatic doors. Did Jon know her? It felt like he should.

“You work at the institute, Jonathan Sims is it?” He stood, frozen in surprise, before he remembered she had asked him a question, and distantly heard his own voice answer. She smiled politely.

“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Gertrude Robinson. You came here in the ambulance with Gerard, didn’t you? I heard he collapsed? Goodness, I can’t keep from thinking what might have happened if he’d been alone when… I asked him to come in, you see. Oh, this is all my fault,” she rambled.

“I- Yes, I- I mean, i-it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known,” he answered in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. He’d never actually spoken to Gertrude Robinson in the little over a year he’d worked at the Magnus Institute, but he was fairly certain he must have seen her occasionally in passing. He was surprised she recognised him at all, but more surprised still to see her here, apparently extremely concerned for- _Oh, Gerry_ \- “I don’t know him well, I mean, we’ve spoken a couple of times, but,” he racked his brains. Had Gerry mentioned Gertrude before? He was sure he had said something about Gertrude and the Leitner, something about it being Web-aligned. Then he had an idea- “He mentioned you, actually.”

“Oh?” She laughed. “All good things I hope?”

Unfortunately for Jon, he was unaware of what an astoundingly terrible decision he was about to make as he continued,

“Well, we were discussing the Leitner we encountered about a fortnight ago.”

Gertrude’s face was unreadable. “You were with him when he encountered one of Leitner’s books?”

“Yes, he mentioned you thought it was Web-aligned, which makes sense, given the spiders, although he wasn’t convinced.”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, and Jon wondered if he’d made a mistake.

“...And why is that?”

“He said it was to do with control, or rather the lack of it. I felt powerless but I didn’t feel like my actions were being influenced.” The words poured out of his mouth immediately with no resistance and he blinked at her.

“I see. That must have been frightening,” she responded finally. “Oh dear, I’m sorry, I’ve kept you talking here when you were just leaving. Have you seen Gerard already, lovely?”

“N- No, I- I’m sure he wouldn’t want to see me. And, regardless, I need to get back to work.”

“Oh, that is a shame. Well, if you’re sure, I can tell him you were here, if you like. Or you could come back once you’re finished at work. I think he’d be grateful to have a nice young man like you check up on him, instead of old me and my fussing,” she chuckled and raised an eyebrow, as though they were in on something that Jon couldn’t quite fathom.

Jon felt warmth rising in his cheeks at this. What was she suggesting? “I, um, I suppose I could come along then if-” he checked his watch, “-if he hasn’t left by then?”

Gertrude smiled at him, not quite sweetly, “I’m glad to hear that. It was nice to meet you, Jonathan.”

“The same to you, Ms Robinson,” Jon replied, bobbing his head slightly, before heading back towards the institute.

‘*’

Settling back into his work was an ordeal. Most of his colleagues had heard that someone had collapsed at the institute, and when Jon didn’t return from his lunch break, they had made their own assumptions. It didn’t help that he couldn’t stop thinking about his interactions with Gertrude and Gerry. But he was finally able to get out his notebook and organise his thoughts.

_Gerry knows Gertrude. She appears fond of him. He was likely visiting her the first time they met, although whether to give a statement or something else was not clear. It is possible that these meetings are a common occurrence, as Gerry seemed to be fairly comfortable at the institute, and seemed to have no issue visiting artifact storage. He also knew of at least one Leitner which was being held there._

Jon couldn’t quite remember what the book was called but he decided he would pay artifact storage a visit at the end of the day before he went back to the hospital.

_Gerry thinks that Leitners can be split into different categories, ones that were about crawling things and corruption, and ones that were about being controlled and being caught in a web, and spiders, which he called The Web._

He picked at the skin around his thumb and tried very hard not to think about Mr Spider. Which meant he suddenly found himself a ball of nervous energy, his every thought consumed with his need to _move_. He sat on his hands, hunched over his desk, staring intently at the page.

He checked his watch. It was 3:41 and he buried his face in his hands. He still hadn’t eaten his sandwich from lunch though, so he did that, and felt a little bit more human.

Now his watch told him it was 3:47. He checked the clock on his laptop which told him the same.

“Okay. Here we go.”

 _Mr Spider, Web-aligned. Book of the Spider, Corruption? Web? [Leitner in AS], connected to_ How had Gerry put it? _‘different entities’? [what does this mean??]_

Jon scrubbed his hands over his face and had to restrain himself from checking the time again.

“Leitners are weird. They can make you feel strange or even have visual hallucinations. They’re dangerous, but there is no reason to believe they are supernatural in nature,” he whispered to himself.

“Giving yourself a bit of a pep talk there, Jonny?”

Jon startled violently and turned around. “ _Christ_ , John, do you mind?”

“Not at all!” John replied peering over at his notes, “Ooh, a Leitner?” Jon slapped his notebook shut and glared at him.

“You don’t happen to know of any they have in artifact storage, do you?” Jon ground his teeth as though it was a physical effort to be civil.

“Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

Jon did not roll his eyes. “I would, I just thought I might save myself a trip. Since you seemed so interested.”

“You’re not planning on going to Artifacts, are you?” came another voice from a desk over.

“Oh, Sasha- um, no, well, you know. Not if I could help it,” he laughed self-deprecatingly, “I don’t suppose you could tell me anything about the Leitners they have in there?”

“I know there were a few, not sure if they’re all still there, but I know we had The Memory Book, DIG,” Sasha counted off on her fingers, “er, the Key of Solomon-”

“Yes! That’s the one, thank you, Sasha.”

“No problem, glad I could save you a trip.” She smiled.

He scribbled the title down onto a clean page, “Do you know what it’s about?”

“What it’s about? It’s a grimoire, isn’t it? Demonology and the like. Why?”

Gerry had mentioned ‘entities’, did he mean something like demons? “Don’t know. Thought it might be relevant.” Was Gerry some sort of pagan? He could feel there was something he was missing, though, and he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to recall Gerry’s exact words.

_“the Web… that's all about the fear of being manipulated… the fear of spiders”_

That seemed important. He definitely needed to speak to Gerry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs: hospitals and seizure mention. skin picking
> 
> Book of the Spider is a real book that exists and it actually looks really interesting, but I have a stack of books i’ve bought during quarantine that i still need to read, so I’m trying to have some self control. Jon is out here bullshitting harder than me writing uni assignments, and Gertrude sees right through him ofc. Is Gertrude the sort to call people pet names? I bet she called michael sweetheart and dear and lovely and he was like well guess i have to protect this sweet old lady at all costs. i’m thinking real hard if i can realistically have him in this and that’s the real reason this chapter took so long.


	4. Jon gets one (1) answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent a day writing a jm oneshot instead of this but i gave up so that’s just in my drafts now and I haven’t edited this bc I wrote most of it in the past 18 hours and wanted to get it out. I'll have another look over it later but rn i am very tired. I’m really trying to cut back on the dialogue, but then I keep writing it, what can you do?  
> Anyway, Tim will be here soon I promise <3 I’ve been looking forward to this for months and I am not exaggerating.

“You came to check up on me. I’m flattered.” Gerry did not sound flattered. “You shouldn’t have bothered, I’m fine, I just forgot to eat. And I haven’t had much sleep, what with waiting for mum to fade. You know how it is.”

Gerry folded his arms over a blue hospital gown and tried to decide whether he should be glaring at the woman sitting in the chair opposite his bed. She ignored him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear colours,” Gertrude remarked, looking him up and down, “makes a nice change. Really brings out your eyes.”

He managed not to tell her to fuck off, a fact which he congratulated himself on. She currently had in her possession the means with which to ruin his life in the form of a book containing his mother. He really didn’t need to be on her bad side right now.

“What do you want, Gertrude? I truly don’t believe you’ve ever made a social visit in your own life,” he regarded her mildly.

“Gerard, you gave me a terrible fight back there.” If Gerry didn’t know better he’d almost think she was sincere. “But no, I thought I’d let you know I met your friend.”

Gerry tensed. “My friend?”

“Is there a reason you didn’t tell me he was involved with the Book of the Spider?”

There was no compulsion in her voice, but Gerry knew he couldn’t lie to her.

“He’s not a part of this.”

“You were worried I’d try to take a statement from him? Or that I’d ask him to work with us?” Gertrude asked calmly.

Gerry looked at her, eyes wide. “I didn’t lie, I wouldn’t- it’s not- I trust you, I do!”

“I know. I know, but he’s very curious, Gerard. And curiosity is a very dangerous trait in-”

“Yes! I know! You think I don’t know that?”

“No, I don’t think you do. Because he didn’t have any idea. About any of this, until you got him involved.”

“I’m not doing this right now. I don’t want to argue with you.” Gerry got up and grabbed his clothes from where they had been left in a pile, “I need to head back to the institute anyway. I’ll let you know when it’s done and I’ll be out of your hair.”

She watched him where he stood on the opposite side of the room with his clothes bundled in scarred arms. “I’m not your mother, Gerard; I’m not here to tell you off for doing something you shouldn’t have, you’re a grown man. What you do in your own time is none of my business, but if you’ve made a mess, take care of it. _Before_ it becomes a danger.”

He stared down at the bed and dumped his clothes on it. “Sorry.” He looked up, “You’re right, it was stupid. Thanks for checking on me though. I know it wasn’t… Mum wouldn’t have. Except to lecture me,” he gave a hollow laugh. “But not anymore, eh?”

“Don’t worry about the picture frame,” she sighed after a moment, “you go home and get some rest. Have some time off, lovely.” Gerry blinked.

“What?”

“I’m giving you a couple of weeks to recover from,” she gestured vaguely at him, “whatever this is. We can’t have you working yourself to an early grave, you’re too useful.”

“Don’t say you’re going soft on me now,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“See you soon, Gerard,” she returned the expression. “Say hello to Jon for me.”

And with that she turned and left.

“Bye, then,” Gerry called after her, before flopping back onto the bed, with barely the energy to be confused, and lying uncomfortably on top of the clothes he’d just put there but suddenly too exhausted to move them. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Come on, Gerry. No point in moping,” he muttered to himself. He let himself lie there for another moment but finally dragged himself up to sit, groaning. There was a knock at the door as he pulled on his jeans and he turned to face it.

“Are you still planning on discharging yourself?” a friendly looking nurse had poked his head into the room.

“Yeah, sorry mate, I need to go.” He smiled apologetically and added, “My mum’s just died, I have a whole load of stuff I need to sort out,” twisting a hint of desperation to his voice to stave off any argument, and feeling a bit guilty as the nurse came in and he handed over the papers they’d had him sign, although it was _very nearly_ not an outright lie.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to risk your own health for her sake.”

Gerry barked a laugh and clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle hysteria bubbling up inside him at the unintended absurdity of that statement. The nurse stared at him with a startled expression.

“Sorry! Sorry, you-” Gerry bit hard down on his lip, his whole body shaking with repressed giggles, “No, I- sorry, it’s just that that’s exactly what she’s been doing her whole life. Death could not stop her.” He sobered. “Not doing a great job convincing you I’m ‘of sound mind’, huh?”

The nurse frowned, but before he could reply, someone appeared behind him from the corridor.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to interrupt, I- this was… weird. I should go, I don’t know why I-”

“Fuck’s sake, Jon,” Gerry cut him off, shaking his head, although surprised himself that he did so with unexpected fondness.

The nurse, who Gerry was feeling a bit guilty for not checking his name- _According to his name tag, it was Stephen_ , moved out of the way to let Jon into the room,  
“Hello, Jon, is it? Are you here to take Gerard home?”

“Uh-”

“Yeah, Jon, are you taking me home?” Gerry asked innocently, although he couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from twitching.

Jon blushed furiously and did his best to look anywhere but at Gerry, who was still only wearing jeans and the hospital gown, although when he spoke he seemed surprisingly relaxed, “No, I- they’re letting you go? That’s-” Jon sighed in relief and looked at him at last, “No lasting damage?” He smiled hopefully, repeating Gerry’s words back to him.

Gerry’s gaze flicked over to Stephen, “Cheers, mate, thanks for this,” he said in obvious dismissal. Stephen frowned but didn’t say anything as he left. “So,” he turned back to Jon, “you’re not here to take me home, what are you here for?”

“I don’t, um… I don’t drive. Do you need a taxi? Or something? Is it a good idea for you to get the tube on your own after- after that?”

“What do you want, Jon?” Gerry would almost find his nervous worrying sweet _-Sweet? Really? Get a grip, Gerry-_ if he didn’t know that there was definitely something else Jon was after.

“I want you to tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific than that.” Gerry knew exactly where this was going and he’d be damned if he let slip any more information to Jon than he already had.

“Can you tell me more about Leitner’s books?”

“No.”

“What? Why?” Jon wasn’t looking at Gerry’s skin, or his tattoos, but straight at his face, not in the way that most people didn’t look at his scars, deliberately forcing themselves not to stare (if they even bothered with the pretence at all), but pleading, almost as if he hadn’t noticed them. _That’s nice of him,_ Gerry thought, bizarrely, and mentally shook himself out of it.

“I told you. There’s some things you’re better off not knowing.”

Jon’s expression closed off, and he brought his hands up to hug his elbows. He looked down for a moment, then back up at Gerry. “Then, can you tell me about the spiders?” he said finally.

Damn him.

“Fine,” he sighed, “fine, alright.” Jon’s eyebrows shot up. “Not here though. Gimme a sec to get changed?” For a moment Jon didn’t move and he worried he’d have to tell him to leave again, but then he walked out and pulled the door closed softly behind him. Gerry could tell he didn’t walk away though.

Part of him wanted to sit down but he knew if he did he wouldn’t want to get up again, so he just pulled on his shirt and his jumper and then his socks and boots, fumbling with the laces, and grabbed his coat as he opened the door which apparently Jon had been leaning on, so he stumbled a couple of steps before Gerry caught him, “Oops! Didn’t see you there.” Jon frowned and he frowned back but then nodded down the hallway towards the exit, “Alright?”

Jon grumbled something, which Gerry took to be a yes and reached for his shoulder to turn him gently, but he flinched and Gerry quickly drew his hand away. _Right, he didn’t like that last time either, remember?_ He said something else then, but Gerry was miles away,

“Hm? Pardon?”

“Nothing, doesn’t matter,” Jon muttered. “Where are we going?”

Gerry led them to a cafe. It was getting dark by the time they arrived, and the cafe was almost empty, which wasn’t ideal, but at least they could get seats that were fairly private. He ordered a decaf and Jon got earl grey and they sat down in the corner furthest from the door. Jon could feel Gerry watching him as he tore open two packets of sugar and tipped them into his tea. He tasted it and pulled a face, hoping he wouldn’t be judged too harshly for adding another couple. Jon chewed his lip and he noticed Gerry’s roots were growing in. He wondered if his hair had been freshly dyed last time, or if he’d had roots then too and Jon just hadn’t noticed. It was a sort of dull black from damage, although Jon imagined suggesting he try a dark brown colour instead of black next time might not go down very well. It would probably look nice though, he thought absently.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Gerry began, and Jon snapped his attention away from his hair which he realised he’d been staring at, “I’ll tell you what I can about the spiders, you may ask questions if you want, I won’t lie to you, but I reserve the right to refuse to answer. In exchange, you’ll stay away from Artifact Storage and the Archives.”

That didn’t seem fair; he couldn’t just ban him from entering certain areas in his place of work! Jon told him so.

“I don’t care. If someone asks you to go to Artifacts or the Archives, make an excuse. It’s really not my problem. Either you agree to keep your distance or I leave right now.”

No, he couldn’t leave, Jon needed to know, he needed _something_. “Why? Why is it so important to you that I stay away?”

“Do you want me to answer your questions or not?” said Gerry, rolling his eyes. He was going to have to agree 

“Fine. I won’t go to the Archives or Artifact Storage,” Jon huffed, “Will you tell me why I can’t?”

“I don’t want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“Unnecessary danger?” he repeated sceptically.

“Yes,” Gerry pulled a packet of paracetamol from his inside coat pocket and swallowed two tablets with a mouthful of coffee. Jon watched him with a look of concern.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Gerry had told him he just fainted because he hadn’t slept or eaten, which was worrying, but not convincing. Jon knew what passing out like that looked like, and what happened at the Institute was not it.

“I’m fine, Jon, it’s just a headache.”

Jon frowned, and then with no input from his brain it seemed, he blurted out, “...It scared me.”

“I mean. That’s kind of the whole point,” Gerry said, “it’s like I said, it’s all about fear. The Web? And the Leitners- although I said I wasn’t going to get into that-”

What? “What? No, I- I meant you,” Jon replied, feeling even more awkward, “at the institute, it was- I-I mean, I know it can’t have been much fun for you, but… I don’t know, maybe you should eat something? If that’s the story you’re sticking with?”

Gerry gave him a funny look. “Oh… Are you offering?” he laughed. He had a nice laugh, even this not-entirely-genuine one. 

Jon stared for a moment. “Is this blackmail? Banning me from departments in my own place of work wasn’t enough, now you’re blackmailing me for a sandwich?” he deadpanned. 

Gerry cracked a grin, “Is it working?”

 _Yes_ Jon gave an exaggerated long-suffering sigh, “Fine. What do you want?”

“You don’t have to I was just kidding-”

“No, I’ve stood up now,” he said lightly, pushing his chair out, “if you don’t tell me I’ll just have to get you something rubbish.”

“‘m not fussy… Not egg mayo, though.” Jon gave him a look. “Please?”

He laughed. Gerry gave him another strange look. “One Not-Egg-Mayonnaise sandwich coming up.”

“And a cake?”

“Don’t push it,” Jon warned, but he smiled to himself as he walked back over to the counter. For some reason, he felt relaxed. Possibly more so than he had since the incident on the tube. A minute later, he returned with a chicken salad sandwich, a lemon slice and a brownie which he placed in between them on the table.

“Oh, you- I _was_ kidding about the cake-”

“What makes you think it’s for you?” he raised his eyebrow and then looked between Gerry and the two cakes before pulling the lemon slice towards him. He gestured for Gerry to help himself to the rest of the food.

“Thanks,” he smiled sheepishly and tucked into the sandwich as Jon eyed him expectantly.

“Alright. The Web, sometimes called The Spider, or Mother of Puppets, is essentially a force of one of our deep, primordial fears. A being which embodies, for lack of a better word, the fear of being manipulated or puppeted.”

 _Oh, he’s just getting right into it._ Jon’s mind was racing and he couldn’t quite process all the new information he was getting in just one sentence that Gerry had put so simply and casually. He considered taking notes and remembered how Gerry had put it last time. “Caught in a trap that you can’t see…” he whispered to himself.

“Yeah, exactly. And also spiders,” Gerry added as an afterthought.

In the seventeen years since Mr Spider, Jon had imagined what it would be like to finally get some answers, although he’d long since given up the idea that they’d all come in a neat little bow at this point. He’d imagined finding a book or a statement or a psychiatrist to explain away what he saw. He had not imagined a goth with dodgy roots and a mouthful of chicken salad sandwich. “So how does this relate to the Leitners?” he asked, much more calmly than he felt.

Gerry sighed, “So, these fears can manifest in different ways,” he took another bite of his sandwich. “In the form of esoteric books, such as one’s from Leitner’s library, or artifacts, like some of the ones you have in the Institute, or creatures, like the ones you hear about in statements, usually spiders in the case of the Web, of course.” Jon tensed. “Or people who are marked by, and serve them.”

“How do you mean ‘marked’?” he asked slowly.

“Well, if you have an encounter with one of these manifestations,” Gerry waved his sandwich around as he gesticulated, “or one of them chooses you, you can become marked. And then some people who are marked will then choose to… feed their god, if you will. They inflict fear on others and, in turn, can wield some of the power of the entity.”

Jon poked at his lemon slice with a plastic fork to keep himself from biting his nails. “If I’ve had an encounter-”

“You’re marked.” Jon shot him a look of panic across the table. “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna turn into a spider freak just because. You have to choose to submit, in some way or another. And some people just aren’t suited to some fears. And, no offence Jon, you’re not a very good liar.”

Jon frowned at that, but his panic had subsided somewhat. Gerry smiled. He could see tiny holes where he must have had lip piercings at some point. Snake bites. Jon wondered if they’d closed over. _That would be a shame_. Jon did not examine that thought.

“Okay.” Wait, did he say fears, plural? “There are more than just the- the Web, though, you said- you mentioned, um… Corruption? Was it? And- and there are more fears than just being controlled and… that itching, skin crawling-”

“Rot.” Gerry’ eyes widened as if he’d let slip something he didn’t mean to say, “No- Nope, I said I’d tell you about the spiders and nothing else-”

“But-”

“No. I plead the fifth.”

“We don’t have that here.”

“Fine, I’m invoking my right to remain silent.”

“I’m not the police-”

“Exactly, I don’t have to answer your questions.”

Jon looked at him and back at his cake. They ate for a minute in silence. “How’s your brownie?”

“A bit stale. You want some? You wouldn’t be getting any more information from me, even if it was good.”

“You’re not really selling it,” Jon nearly smiled. “Sorry. You can have some of mine if you want.”

“You’re alright. Thank you though,” Gerry said quietly. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me before. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Maybe I just didn’t want you collapsing on me again.” Jon tilted his head thoughtfully as he looked at him. He couldn’t read his expression.

“I meant what I said before, Jon,” he said finally, “once you know about all this, you don’t get to stop knowing. You can’t just turn a blind eye once you’ve chosen to see it. That’s what’s so dangerous about the Magnus Institute. You hunt for knowledge and you think that knowledge will give you power and make you safe, but it wont.”

“You said yourself, I don’t get to stop knowing, but I lost that chance years ago.” Jon wasn’t sure where this honesty was coming from, and he really didn’t want to have to explain his life story to anyone, let alone a man he barely knew. He ate his last bite of cake in an attempt to make himself shut up, but Gerry’s gaze softened.

“I know. That’s why I agreed to speak to you about the Web. For closure. And I know you won’t leave the Institute, I’d never ask you to do that, but stay away from the Archives and from Artifact Storage. They’re not safe.”

Jon looked at him for a long moment. “Okay. Thank you for talking to me. I- I do appreciate it.”

He smiled, and the tension evaporated, “No problem! You brought me cake, it’s really the least I could do.”

Jon rolled his eyes, “I think they might be closing, so you’re not getting another one.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Gerry looked around at the now empty cafe, as they both stood up, “are you alright getting home?”

“Oh, yes, don’t worry,” he waved him off. “More to the point, are you? Can you get a cab?”

“Yeah, no, I’ll get one” Gerry took their cups back to the counter, the woman cleaning up there looked shocked to see that they were still there and they both muttered apologies for staying so late.

As they entered into the cool night air, Jon pulled his coat tighter around him. “I, um- Will I see you soon?”

“Gertrude’s given me a couple of weeks off… I don’t work for her,” Gerry clarified, “but, I’m not at the institute much anyway. So, uh, no, probably not.” Jon tried not to show his disappointment on his face -why was he disappointed?- although he might not have been entirely successful, because Gerry continued, “If I’m around can- do you mind if I come and say hello?” and then frowned slightly.

“Oh- uh, y-yes, of course,” Jon smiled, “i-if you want.” _Smooth, Sims, truly incredible._ “Um, see you, then?”

"Yeah..." he said, "See you, Jon." and he turned and walked quickly in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Hospitals. Unhealthy eating habits/disordered eating mention. Referenced parent death (Mary Keay).
> 
> You’re telling me Gertrude _didn’t_ use gerry’s mommy issues to manipulate him? Unrealistic.  
> Also congrats to me for making the first time Jon properly laughs be at Gerry being a dickhead, who immediately *heart eyes* and realises that he is now very attached. I had to rewrite the cafe scene this morning bc i realised it wasn’t very interesting from Gerry’s POV. and I’m aware I’m rehashing explanations which we’ve all heard a billion times, although in my defence, my plan for this chapter was unbelievably vague (is that better? probably not). Also I realised as i was writing this that it was Georgie who came up with the term “avatars”, which means for accuracy’s sake, I can’t call them avatars until she turns up. Does this mean Georgie'll be in this sooner? ... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	5. A little job, off the books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerry had said to stay away from the Archives, but surely running an errand for the Head Archivist would be okay. And she was technically his superior- could he say no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are definitely issues with this, but blame that on the fact I didn’t start writing this chapter til saturday bc i was binging season 16 of grey’s anatomy. Feel free to judge me, I deserve it, it was awful.  
> I'm trying to decide whether i should write the next chapter now and post it as soon as i'm done, write it now but post it next week to build up a bit of a buffer, or work on something else that i've been putting off to write this and leave the next chapter til the last minute.  
> I'm aware this is going very slowly at the moment, and I did promise Tim, but I think he's probably at least one more chapter away :( Also, i'm thinking of changing the title. we shall see.

Jon had been poring over statements non-stop since he spoke to Gerry a few days ago. The information he’d been given had been… a lot to take in. So, naturally, he had decided to push any thoughts of the supernatural to the back of his mind, which was easier than you might think for someone working for an organisation that studies exactly that. He had had a lot of practice shoving his fear into a neat little box. Okay, a rather large box. More like a filing cabinet. Or a chest. A wardrobe? Maybe he had a dedicated spare room in his brain that he’d open the door of _just enough_ to pile yet another anxiety in, and then slam it quickly so nothing could accidentally overflow and fall out. There was a chance this metaphor was getting away from him. But was he going to admit that he was possibly spiraling just a little bit?

So Jon threw himself into his work, arriving at the Institute early and leaving late, and taking with him whatever he could over the weekend. That was his plan, anyway. It turned out that the universe had other ideas. Or rather, Gertrude Robinson did.

He usually ate at his desk, and didn’t tend to bother with tea unless someone else offered. Which they usually didn’t. He only really got up to go for a smoke. He’d thought about quitting, he wanted to, he knew he should, but… the only way he could put it was that it just wasn’t the right time. Which was ridiculous, probably just the nicotine addiction talking, and yet it was an excuse to keep taking his breaks that wasn’t his weird hope that Gerry would be there next time Jon lit one up. It wasn’t Gerry that was there this time though.

“Jonathan? Ah, I’m glad I caught you, I had a feeling I might find you out here,” she said pleasantly. She was already in the courtyard when he arrived, but Jon was too out of it to really question that fact, having slept only about 7 hours on the weekend.

“Oh, uh, Jon, please.” He noticed she wasn’t smoking and wondered whether it would be more rude to smoke while she was there, or awkward to not smoke in a designated smoking area. “Do you, um, do you mind if I smoke?” he asked eventually.

“Not at all, Jon,” Gertrude smiled, “it’s good to see you again. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course, what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if I could trouble you to do a little job for me, off the books, as it were,” she gave him a knowing look. “I had planned to ask Gerard, but he needed some time to recover from-” she lowered her voice, the way an older relative might when they have some particularly spicy gossip that they shouldn't be telling you, “-the incident the other day.”

Gerry had said to stay away from the Archives, but surely running an errand for the Head Archivist would be okay. And she was technically his superior- could he say no? “Right, he mentioned you’d given him some time off,” Jon laughed weakly, though still somewhat reluctant to agree to anything without knowing what it was.

“Oh, you did speak to him then?” Gertrude positively beamed at this, “I’m so glad to hear that, I’m sure he was pleased to hear from you.”

“... Yes, it was… nice… to speak to him,” he answered carefully.

“Come now, lovely, I don’t bite,” she chuckled. Jon shifted uneasily, torn between needing to take a nervous drag of his cigarette, and not wanting to appear rude. His grandmother had hated that he smoked. “As I was saying, I’ve been notified of an artifact that has gone missing, and I was hoping you’d be able to track it down for me. Given your background in research, and your experience with interesting books, well…” she put no special emphasis on her words, although Jon felt as though she should have. Was she talking about the Leitners?

“Gone missing from where?” he asked instead.

“Artifact Storage. It happened about a week ago.”

“Did you call the police? If someone stole something from Artifact Storage, should that not be a job for them?” Jon made a concerted effort not to chew his lip. He racked his brains for a way to get out of this. Doing something for Gertrude wasn’t necessarily going against his promise to Gerry, but this seemed like he was at risk of it. Not to mention, he didn’t really want to go on the hunt for any stolen, and possibly dangerous object that had been in a 2 mile radius of Artifact Storage as a matter of principle.

“The police don’t like to get involved in Institute business, they’d be no help.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure- I don’t- it’s not that I don’t want to help, I’m just not sure I’m the right person to ask about this.” He took a long drag from his cigarette. _For my nerves,_ he thought wryly.

“I know Artifacts isn’t anyone’s favourite place, and Gerard was supposed to do it, I’d usually ask him for something like this, but of course, I don’t want to risk his _health_. I suppose I could see if he’s feeling any better, but…” She looked earnest, almost pleading, but there was a sharpness in her eyes that seemed to show through any expression. It made him uneasy and he searched for somewhere else to look, or something to say.

“I-I really don’t-” Gertrude was staring at him intently, and he couldn’t meet her eyes, even to shoot her a pained look. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and as much as Jon didn’t want to do whatever it was she wanted, he really couldn’t let her ask Gerry. “What do you need me to do?” he sighed, defeated.

That was how Jon ended up spending the next four months searching for an Edwardian picture frame that, as far as he could tell, either gave people false memories or showed them an alternate universe, or the future… or something. It was difficult to get a clear idea of what exactly it was supposed to do because statement givers were notoriously unreliable, and any testing that had been done by researchers in Artifacts had been conducted some fifty years ago, and false memories and the like are particularly difficult to corroborate. Jon had wondered for a while if the entire existence of the frame and its presence in the Institute had been imagined, although, the records of it would suggest otherwise.

It didn’t help that he was supposed to be discrete in his search, especially at the Institute, or that there was another frame in Artifacts that made the user unable to recognise the people in whatever picture was in the frame. That had sent him in circles for nearly a month, since it was the only frame most of the Institute employees remembered, because of all the trouble it had apparently caused three or four years ago when it arrived.

He hadn’t seen Gerry again. Which had caused him to briefly worry that the cursed frame had somehow put him in his memories, or that he’d made him up, but Gertrude had assured him that Gerry definitely did exist. Which was a relief, so long as he could trust _her_ judgement. He thought he could.

Gertrude was busy all the time; he never managed to have a proper conversation without her making an excuse to be doing something else, but the Archives, from what Jon had seen of them, were a mess. He had no idea what she could possibly be so busy with, because it didn’t seem to be doing her job. He’d once watched her file a statement away in a box, that looked to be completely random. And he didn’t want to be rude, so he didn’t ask her on the rare occasion he saw her. And she travelled a lot? He didn’t know where, or why, but she was almost certainly using Institute funds, so maybe it was conferences? Or for research? Since he was apparently the closest thing she had to an assistant. And perhaps strangest of all, Jon could never quite tell if Gertrude actually wanted him there. She was always friendly enough, patient, but he couldn’t shake the unease that he felt in her presence, or in the Archives, for that matter. The more time he spent there the more he was sure Gerry had been right to warn him off, and the harder he found it to stay away.

But after four months Jon was certain he finally had a lead. Emily from the library had taken it because their brother James asked them to and James had immediately left the country, which Jon had worried would be the end of his search, but luckily for him, James had called Emily from Pwllheli, telling them he’d be back in Bath this week, and they’d been so worried about him, they told Jon everything straight away. Perhaps it was wishful thinking that he would still have hold of it, but it was more than nothing. And it was better than the false hauntings and mundane artifacts he’d come across so far, so he set off on the Friday night after work and arrived before 9pm to a hotel. He’d been so anxious the night before he’d barely had any sleep- even less than usual, that is, and barely managed to take his shoes off before collapsing on the too-soft bed.

He awoke at about 5am to sunlight streaming through the curtains which he’d forgotten to shut before he fell asleep, and the sort of pain you get from sleeping very badly in a very uncomfortable bed, although he had woken up in the night in enough discomfort that he had decided to get changed out of his work clothes. He didn’t need to be awake so early, but since he was, he ended up going over his notes and double checking exactly what his plans were.

James was staying at a hostel, so Jon headed there first just after 6, grabbing a lukewarm cup of tea from a Costa on the way, and hung around at a bus stop, watching the doors. He was sure there must have been a more effective way of doing this, but stakeouts aren’t exactly something they teach at uni, at least, not as far as he knew. There was every chance James had left already and Jon hadn’t noticed because he kept losing zoning out. He ran out of tea by 6:30, of cigarettes by 10, and snacks by 1, and at 2 he was sure he must have missed him, when he saw a man matching James’ description leaving the hostel. Jon almost cheered. He followed at a good distance, although it was busy enough in the town centre on a Saturday afternoon that it wasn’t entirely necessary, until he entered a townhouse off one of the busier streets. _Waiting outside a building again. Not even getting paid,_ he groaned under his breath. Jon shivered as the sun went behind a cloud and watched the sky darken in a matter of seconds, and the heavens opened. Jon was wearing a t-shirt because it was July, and didn’t have a jacket with him, because it was July, and you would think he’d have had the foresight to pack an umbrella, but you would be wrong. He’d have been soaked to the skin in under an minute if the man he’d been tailing hadn’t walked out of the building _with an umbrella, because of course it was going to rain, he probably checked the forecast like any sane person would have._

It was at this moment, Jon realised he didn’t have a plan if when he approached James he decided to run. So he walked up to him with purpose anyway, when a hand grabbed his arm. He lept a foot in the air, but had the wherewithal not to yell as he spun around,

“What the fuck are you doing, Jon?” they said in a harsh whisper.

Jon blinked in confusion as he looked up at-

“Gerry? W-What- Why are y- why are you here?”

“To stop you from doing something stupid, _apparently_ ,” he still had hold of his arm, but in his other hand was an orange stripey umbrella that looked a bit like a sunset, and very out of place with the rest of Gerry’s outfit. Although he could sort of pull it off- a quiet part of Jon’s brain supplied.

“You followed me?”

“No, I’m following him. And I’m gonna lose him, so, if you don’t mind…” he began to walk away after James.

“Wait-” he called, catching Gerry’s wrist. Gerry stared down at Jon’s hand and then back at him, raising one eyebrow. Jon dropped it quickly. “Sorry. I-it’s just, I’ve been looking for him for four months, he has something I’m trying to locate.”

There was a long pause, until Gerry sighed and rolled his eyes, but extended his umbrella to cover Jon, who quickly ducked under it.

“Thank y-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted sharply, “Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ksdfhsdkjhk my brain just went ‘for my poor nerves’ a la Mrs Bennet and i had to put it in but i couldn’t make it a joke cos Tone but please know that’s what was going on in my brain when i wrote it.  
> Did i need to make it be raining? No, but i pictured it dark and i realised that it wouldn’t be dark til like 11pm if the weather was good and i felt bad having to make jon hang around that long.
> 
> There's a chance that if i write any more today, I'll edit it and stick it in this chapter after the fact, just bc otherwise the next one will be a real mess  
> anyway, i really appreciate your comments and kudos, they keep me sane and make me feel like i'm not doing such a terrible job,  
> and i'm on tumblr @big-urchin-energy


	6. Cursed things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your lovely comments! (and while i’m here, allow me a moment to plug my lil michael fic ‘Who is like God?’ that i write when i don’t want to write this, if anyone’s interested)  
> It took me over two thousand words and 6 days to realise that this should have been from jon’s pov and that never gets less frustrating, so i had to rewrite two thousand words, and then wrote two thousand more. today. so that's why it's late. it's likely there are mistakes, but it is 2am so i am going to sleep. also i've already got gerry's pov, so i might stick that in a different work when i get a chance.
> 
> content warnings in the end notes

“What are you doing here, Jon?” Gerry looked down at him. They were standing close together, huddled under the umbrella.

“Emily from the library was worried about their brother, he asked them to steal an artifact for him-”

“Don’t lie to me, Jon,” he interrupted wearily.

“Don’t ‘ _Jon_ me,” Jon snapped. “And I’m not lying.”

“Just because a statement is objectively true, doesn’t mean you answered my question.”

“Well, if we’re playing that game, I think you’ll find I asked you first.”

Gerry stopped abruptly and turned to face him properly. “This isn’t a game, J- it’s not a game. That man is dangerous, I need to know exactly what you’ve got yourself into.”

“If you know he’s so dangerous, why are you following him?”

“Oh, for the love of god- because that’s what I do! It’s what I’ve been doing. For years! Probably while you were still in school, I was finding dangerous things and getting rid of them, so people like you could live in your happy little bubble, not knowing about any of this bullshit!” He spoke quietly, but with a force Jon hadn’t expected. Jon took a half-step backwards before remembering the rain. Gerry sighed. “Emily’s my mate, they asked me to keep an eye on James cos they thought he might have ended up with a dangerous crowd.”

“Do you make a habit of befriending Institute employees? How do you know Emily?”

“What is this, twenty questions? No I don’t, and even if I did, it’s none of your business,” Gerry paused. “They go to a trans group I visited a few times a while back.” He folded his arms defensively.

“O-oh…” Jon’s eyes darted around, not landing anywhere near Gerry, who opened his mouth to say anything to change the subject, but before he could, Jon continued, “Is that the one in Soho?”

“No, it’s-” Gerry frowned down at him. He didn’t need to do this right now. “That’s enough, it doesn’t matter. Can you please answer my question now?”

“Fine, he convinced Emily to steal a picture frame about four months ago from Artifact Storage, and apparently it’s cursed, so Gertr-” Jon cut himself off.

“Gertrude told you to track it down?”

“Please don’t be annoyed, it was just supposed to be a quick favour, since she gave you that time off?”

“Annoyed? I asked you to do one thing! You promised you’d stay away and it-” Gerry looked down the street to where James had walked off and started after him again, “-come on. Wait- four months, that must have been… March? How long did you wait before going behind my back with her? Days?”

“I- I thought it would just be a quick errand, I didn’t _want_ to do it, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer, a-and to be honest, when James left the country, I thought that would be the last of it.”

“She’s an old woman, what was she going to do if you said no?” he said, exasperated, “She’s not your boss, you don’t work for her.”

“Yes, but _you do_ , however unofficially, and she said she couldn’t ask you because of your health-” Gerry scoffed at that. “-and I didn’t _want_ her to ask you, I was wo- I hoped if I did this, she wouldn’t make you do it.”

Gerry’s pace slowed slightly, then sped up again after a moment. He sighed. “I’d really like it if you just went home Jon. I- I know I can’t ask you- would never ask you to leave your job, but Gertrude, she- why would she tell you to do it? She had no reason not to ask me- she _did_ ask me, before everything happened, but then she just… giving me time off isn’t like her.”

“What, you think she wasn’t worried about you after you collapsed and had to be taken to hospital?”

“I don’t know, maybe? But there was nothing wrong! I’m absolutely fine, not even a concussion, and I told her that.”

“Maybe she knows something you don’t,” suggested Jon lightly, “or _maybe_ she thought you deserved a bit of a break.”

They’d come to a zebra crossing and Gerry squinted at the oncoming traffic. A blue Ford stopped to let them cross and Jon waved thanks when he realised Gerry had no intention to and was staring absently ahead. Jon ended up angling towards the road where James had gone, in case Gerry had decided to keep going straight ahead.

“Are you alright? Gerry?” He reached to take a handful of Gerry’s sleeve and stop him. Gerry spun to look at him and he retracted his hand quickly. “Sorry, I- sorry for grabbing you. And before too, I shouldn’t have done that,” Jon said hastily.

Gerry blinked at him. “What?”

“I was trying to get your attention, you seemed a bit… out of it? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“What are you-? You didn’t, I’m fine, I- shit,” he winced, “I grabbed your arm before, didn’t I? Sorry, I-” he shook his head, “I should’ve thought, I know you don’t…” Jon frowned at him, confused. “I grabbed you before, I forgot you didn’t like that- I should’ve asked, or something-” he rambled.

Was he… apologising? To Jon? “I-Its okay? You, you didn’t mean to. And you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

“Yeah, but I’ve done it before and you freaked out then too, but I did it anyway- look, can you just let me apologise? _I’m_ in the wrong here,” Gerry ran his free hand through his hair, “but I won’t do it again, okay?”

Jon didn’t reply and hunched his shoulders, clutching his arms which prickled with goosebumps. The rain was barely drying off him, and he was unused to… boundaries? He knew he didn’t overly like being touched, but it hadn’t really occurred to him that there was anything he could do about it. Gerry was looking out for him, he could have used that as an excuse, or just not have noticed at all, but here he was, not judging, but offering to accommodate him. A seed of something soft like safety made root in his chest.

He was still distracted as they rounded the next corner and walked head-on into the man they’d been tailing for twenty minutes. Or, more accurately, four months. James grinned evenly, and Jon stepped back disconcerted. What was going on?

“Gerard! It’s good to see you!” He knew Gerry? Unease crept over Jon. Was this a trap? “And who’s your friend?”

“Oh- uh, Jonathan Sims,” said Jon immediately, and managed to keep himself from wincing. That might not have been his smartest move. James had his hands in his pockets though, so at least he didn’t have to shake his hand.

“Jon, nice to meet you, are you a friend of Em’s too?” he said, still grinning.

“No, he’s with me,” Gerry interrupted, before Jon had a chance to reply.

“Oh, good.” James had a strange look on his face as he took his hands out of his pockets. James grabbed one of Jon’s hands in his, and before he had a chance to draw back, closed it around a jar that he’d pulled from his pocket, forcing it up to his eye level, too close for his eyes to focus on it’s contents for a moment, but when they did, the world got very loud, as though he couldn’t pinpoint his focus on just one sound, his attention on nothing, but hearing everything, and he felt very small.

He didn’t register James letting go of his hand. He didn’t need to hold the jar anymore to get Jon to look anymore; he was already entranced.

He could hear voices, muffled, when one cut through, just enough to settle in his brain. _“Stay here, Jon, don’t move, I’m coming back-” _It must have been important, it was the only thing he could hold in his mind, so he stayed. He was fairly certain something was further away than it had been moments ago. Was it Gerry? He tried to turn his head but he stumbled, dizzy, and his vision bloomed. He sat down quickly and felt something in his hand. It was an orange umbrella, he knew, because Gerry had given it to him. But if Gerry’s umbrella was here, why wasn’t Gerry?__

__Was James still there? No, he was gone too, Jon knew, because he had given him the jar. The jar had marbles in, he registered finally. That seemed important. He was still looking at them. They were beautiful, a yellow, sand-coloured one, an inky black one, a clear green one, and one that was blue like the sky. The information came to him slowly, as though he was pulling it out of tar. It took so much effort, it was surprising how easily he managed to open the jar and take out the pretty green one, the movement felt small and precise, everything else was unimportant when he looked into it, everything else fell away. He held it close to his eye and it looked like the sea. It was calm and beautiful and vast._ _

__He watched the waves for an infinitesimal moment, before he felt a presence behind him; too close._ _

__He heard a voice far away. It didn’t seem important. “Can I have it, please?” the voice said gently. It might have said something else, but the words were a jumble, they just floated away, even when he tried to look where they were coming from. But he did what it said, and released his grip on the marble. Immediately it was hidden and the world became _so loud_. There was something in front of him, and he couldn’t quite see it, but the world got a tiny bit quieter. It took him a minute to realise that it had stopped raining._ _

__He was being asked a question and he answered. It was Gerry, he realised. When did he get there? What was he asking? He tried to focus, and managed to catch a few words he was fairly certain were being spoken to him._ _

__“... do you... I... buy… looking…?”_ _

__He agreed to whatever it was. He felt a tugging on the bag that was slung over his shoulder_ _

__“Alright, come on,” he heard clearly, “Jon, can you get up?”_ _

__Whatever Jon said in reply, he could tell his tone was annoyed at the inane question, but his own words were lost to them as soon as they had left his lips, and he got up stiffly._ _

__“Right, tell me where you’re staying, and we can get you some dry clothes,” Gerry said, so he did. He felt himself be guided along. He wasn’t sure if Gerry was talking to him. Then he realised that there was someone else with them. He didn’t feel safe._ _

__Gerry told him to get changed. They were indoors now. He felt agitated, alone in a cramped room. He wasn’t sure how he got there. He probably walked there, he was very damp. It had been raining, although that didn’t really bother him. Not much really bothered him. Except how small the room was. Except how tight his chest felt. He peeled off his jeans and t-shirt which were soaked, and his binder which came off much easier than he remembered it ever being, and as soon as he did, the relief made his knees weak. The room was still painfully small, but he could think a little clearer now, and pulled on the only other trousers he could find and a t-shirt which was dry and worn and soft. His socks and shoes were more difficult. They were small and hard to find and focus on and the laces on his shoes were fiddly, so he just tucked them in and grabbed a jacket on the way out, which was too heavy, but at least it would protect him if it rained again._ _

__Gerry and James had been waiting for him outside his room, a fact which occurred to him once they left the building. He could tell that they were talking. He could also tell that everyone else was talking, so he didn’t pay much attention._ _

__At some point Gerry shouted, and usually Jon might have flinched, but it faded into the other noise. They stopped abruptly, which he noticed just as abruptly, but much after the fact. They were indoors again, and Jon fidgeted, rolling his shoulders. He felt oddly heavy on one side and saw he was carrying his bag. Had he had it this whole time?_ _

___“I’m really sorry about this, Jon,”_ Jon blinked. He’d heard it clearly, for just a second, and then it vanished into the noise again. Before he could think… anything, they were outside again, and walking. His whole body ached, but that, like everything else, was very small. Far away._ _

__At some point not long later, they stopped, and Jon realised that there was only one person with him now. He panicked; had Gerry left him? That didn’t seem small. In fact it was the most he’d felt of his own volition in a while, and it was terror that the world was big and he’d never be able to find his friend again. And he could _feel_ how long ‘never’ was deep in his soul._ _

___“Jon, would you just tell me what you’re feeling- I want to help you.”_ _ _

__Jon answered straight away, “I’m scared. And my back hurts.”_ _

__Then he felt the physical weight of his bag lift off him and it was good, immediately followed by another different weight replacing it. The noise got louder and he could hardly breathe for the oppressive feeling on all sides. He tried to gasp for air, he thought, but he could have been wrong, it was hard to tell with the cacophony that surrounded him pressing down and down and down. He stretched his neck, twisting to catch a breath. There might have been hands on him, they may have been his own, they could have been the hands of the whole world, for the crushing he felt. His eyes must have been open, how else would it have been _so_ bright? Or was it dark? He felt as though it should have been dark. That he should have been cast in physical shadow of all the things that squeezed and pushed and _hurt_. He stretched his neck again, tipping his head all the way back in an attempt to open his airways, and as he did, he saw the sky._ _

__Even surrounded by old buildings, the sky was still there. Of course it was still there, where could it have gone? There dark grey clouds from the earlier showers were gone, and left behind an uninterrupted sheet of clear blue. It was beautiful, and he felt light again, drinking in the open space and oxygen, and he didn’t know how long he stared. The voices and the traffic melted away until they were just a distant hum. Nothing else mattered._ _

__After what felt like only seconds of peace, he heard Gerry’s voice again. It was familiar, and honest._ _

__“Can you hear me?”_ _

__“Yes,” he whispered. The memory of the words stayed with him, but the soundwaves themselves were carried away, free._ _

__“What happened?”_ _

__“I don’t know. But I’m alright now,” Jon replied, still staring into the sky._ _

__“Will you look at me? I need to make sure you’re alright.”_ _

__He shook his head as best he could while looking up. He could feel hands hovering near him, not touching, and he panicked. If he didn’t do what Gerry told him, what if the hands came closer? He tore his eyes away and took a step back, looking past Gerry’s face to the horizon behind him. He hoped that would be good enough._ _

__“I’m not going to touch you if you don’t want, but we need to go somewhere safe, where we aren’t so out in the open.”  
Jon’s eyes widened and he was torn between needing to drink in the sky to stay afloat, and looking right at Gerry to beg him. He couldn’t be stuck in a tiny room again, or a cramped coffee shop or a dark old building._ _

__He shifted his focus so it was on the man standing in front of him. Quickly, the pinpricks of pressure began to needle at him again and he babbled, “Please don’t make me go inside- I can’t- I’ll go anywhere else, but-”_ _

__“Jon- Hey, it’s alright, we can just walk, we don’t have to go inside, but it’s getting late, and I for one am starving, so if you want I can pick you up something on the way?”_ _

__Jon looked back at the sky and felt the pressure lift once again. It suddenly occurred to him that this _wasn’t normal_ \- “What’s happening to me?” he asked, panicking again, but did not take his eyes off the sky, “Gerry, what’s going on??” He reached forward, unsure what exactly he expected to do, and then dragged his hands back in. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye._ _

__“I don’t know- I- I think it’s the Vast? Or maybe the Buried? And I don’t know if destroying the marbles would make it better or worse. Shit, I- god, this is such a mess!” Gerry took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do.”_ _

__Gerry detailed a plan which involved a short walk to a nearby park, he would stop to get food and Jon would stay outside and not go anywhere. The rest of the plan was essentially sitting down in the hopes that the effects would wear off. He admitted the plan wasn’t the most sophisticated plan, but _“these sorts of things don’t need to be complicated, they just need to work.”__ _

__Jon wasn’t convinced by this logic, but Gerry had rambled something about destroying the marbles, and the thought terrified him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what would happen if they were destroyed and it didn’t work. And another part of him remembered how beautiful they were, and it seemed a shame to break them._ _

__Gerry had let him walk unassisted, which Jon appreciated, but close by, just in case._ _

__“It’s not spiders,” Jon muttered when Gerry came out of a chip shop, carrying a portion of salt and pepper chicken, and chips, which he didn’t see because he was staring up again, but brought his head down a little in time to notice that Gerry didn’t offer him the bag as they started walking, but made a strange aborted movement as he stepped towards him. Jon wondered whether he was a more touchy-feely person, and not touching someone didn’t come naturally to him. When Gerry didn’t answer, he continued, “There are others, aren’t there.” It wasn’t a question. Whatever was happening to him was something else entirely to the Web or the Corruption, he could tell that much. “I don’t suppose you would tell me, considering that it’s currently doing…” he waved his arms vaguely at himself and the space around him, “something to me? Maybe it would help you to bounce ideas off someone?”_ _

__“Step down-” Gerry said suddenly, and a moment later, Jon tripped down a curb he hadn’t seen. Gerry flung an arm out to steady him automatically, and then sucked a breath in through his teeth, wincing, “Sorry!”_ _

__“It’s alright, at least I didn’t smash my face in on the pavement.”_ _

__“... Would it help to hold onto my arm? You can say no, but it might save me accidentally groping you every time you fall.”_ _

__“Um… alright, I suppose that- that would be a sensible idea,” he said, reaching blindly in the direction of Gerry’s arm, which he caught after a second and tried not to hold on too tightly. His fingers tingled a little._ _

__They walked in silence until they reached the park. Jon knew Gerry had heard his question, but he couldn’t look to gauge his reaction and hoped he wouldn’t have to ask it again._ _

__“Okay,” he said quietly as they sat down on a wooden bench not quite overlooking the River Avon. He sighed. “You already know about the Web… Well, there are thirteen more of these… forces, if you will. They’re our fear.”_ _

__Jon listened as intently as he could to Gerry’s explanation. It was… an awful lot to take in. Terrifying, really, but looking up into the still-light summer evening, and listening to Gerry talk, and having every one of his burning questions, some that he’d had for nearly twenty years, and others that were brand new, arising from the discussion, answered, if he ignored the subject matter, Jon might almost describe it as nice… Satisfying certainly._ _

__They struggled for a moment working out how Jon was going to eat if he couldn’t look at his food, and he resolved to just have very greasy hands for a while as he held chips and spicy chicken in one hand and picked at it with the other. It felt strange to discuss such horrible things while they were eating (Gerry had breezed past the one he called the Flesh for that very reason, but promised he’d explain it when he could). He couldn’t tell how much of a mess he was making, though, and dearly hoped that Gerry wasn’t watching him._ _

__With only three entities left, Gerry began to explain the Buried and the Vast._ _

__“They’re like two sides of the same coin, claustrophobia and agoraphobia. The Vast is vertigo, the dread of deep water, of our own insignificance before the universe, and the Buried is the fear of small spaces, crushing, you can’t breathe. You’re at the centre of everything, and it all pushes down on you. If the Vast is like losing yourself in too much space, the Buried is being trapped without enough.”_ _

__“Well, then, it was the Buried? Right? That’s exactly what I felt- what I _feel_ if I look down.”_ _

__“That would be my instinct too, but you said you didn’t feel it until you looked _away_ from the sky, until I took the marbles away. You don’t feel the _fear_ until they’re gone. I think it could be withdrawal. Do you like wide open spaces? Did you, I mean? Before this?”_ _

__“I-” Jon didn’t have to think. He knew the answer, but hesitated. What would it mean if he _liked_ a cosmic fear entity? “I grew up by the sea? I- I ran away a lot a-as a child, I liked to… it’s silly, never mind.”_ _

__“You don’t have to tell me about your childhood, but I take it you enjoyed the sea? Or the space? It’s- it’s okay though. Your childhood doesn’t have to mean anything for the you that exists now. And I’m sure it’s not silly. I’ve got over a hundred tattoos of eyes.”_ _

__Jon whipped his head around at that, ignoring the stiffness in his neck and the prickling pressure starting to weigh down on him to look Gerry up and down. He squeezed his eyes shut, which just made the crushing sensation worse, and opened them again. He didn’t get to see the tattoos. He frowned._ _

__“Why do you have so many tattoos of eyes?” he asked as calmly as he could through gritted teeth._ _

__“Is it still bad?” Jon heard him say, concern apparent in his voice, even he couldn’t see it in his face._ _

__He nodded._ _

__“Is it any better at all?_ _

__He shook his head. “Tell me about your tattoos?”_ _

__“Well, that sort of brings me to the last fear, actually.” Gerry said. Jon was already frowning, but if he hadn’t been, he would have frowned in confusion at that. “It’s called the Eye, or sometimes Beholding, the fear of being watched, being followed, having your deepest secrets exposed. Needing to know, even if your discoveries might destroy you. The feeling that something, somewhere, is letting you suffer, just so it can watch.”_ _

__“Oh, wow, that’s- pretty intense,” Jon chuckled nervously, “but how does it relate to your tattoos?”_ _

__“Well you know how I told you some people are marked by an entity, and some choose to align themselves with one?”  
Jon nodded uncomfortably, “I’m not sure I like where this is going, if I’m honest.”_ _

__“Oh it’s- it’s nothing like that, I just… okay, don’t laugh, I like the aesthetic? I mean, that was part of it, but I hoped if I had all-” he paused, probably gesturing towards himself, “this, the others might leave me alone. And it worked! A bit… This one time, ‘bout a year ago, I was dealing with a Desolation Leitner, got some pretty nasty burns, but the tattoos were completely fine. Not that it means much, but at least I didn’t have burn scabs on any of my joints.”_ _

__“That’s… a little weird.”_ _

__“Yeah, fair enough,” Gerry laughed._ _

__Jon counted the ones he’d mentioned in his head, “And then that- that’s all of them?”_ _

__“Yes, but- okay, in the interest of total honesty, The Magnus Institute is- I don’t know how to describe it- tied? To Beholding. Aligned with it, or run with the intent to feed it, in some way. Elias Bouchard is a follower, a servant of the Eye, and so is Gertrude, to an extent.”_ _

__“... You’re having me on.”_ _

__“‘fraid not.”_ _

__“I- I can’t- I can’t deal with this right now, I have enough problems, several of them are my neck, I’m going to focus on being able to close my eyes, and then I will deal with _that_ later. Over several drinks.”_ _

__“Oh, no, that’s definitely fair… I’m still drawing a bit of blank on what to do though. Sorry, that’s probably not what you want to hear.”_ _

__“I think I may have an idea,” Jon said quietly, adding things up in his brain. “Give me the marbles back.”_ _

__“What? Jon- no, they’re what got us into this mess-”_ _

__“Got _me_ into this mess. But I think you’re right about- about withdrawal, it got worse when you took the marbles, but it got worse again when you took my bag, I think having them on my person helped?”_ _

__“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, we don’t know if I’m right- it could make everything worse again.”_ _

__“It isn’t better! My condition hasn’t improved at all, in fact, it’s worse now because I’m physically aching, even when I’m looking up. Please let me at least try,” Jon pleaded, desperate to close his eyes, “I’m so tired.”_ _

__He couldn’t see Gerry and he cursed basically everything. He needed to see what he was thinking, wished he could read it on his face. When he felt movement next to him, and then saw Gerry leaning over him, looping the strap of his bag over his arm, and placing the bag on his lap, he could have wept with relief. He still felt claustrophobic, but in a sort of uncomfortable, overstimulated way, not even close to an Entire World Pressing In On Him sort of way. He tore his eyes down and immediately looked at Gerry. After a beat, he felt himself laugh. He fell forwards towards Gerry, landing his forehead on his shoulder, still laughing._ _

__“Is it better?” Gerry asked softly._ _

__Jon lifted his head away to nod. “Not perfect, but better… Thank you. For looking out for me. I’m sorry I made such a mess of everything, you were right, I-.”_ _

__“Listen, I’m not going to say you haven’t made this… harder than it needed to be, but don’t make promises you can’t keep. We both know you’d do this all again if it meant getting the information you wanted.”_ _

__“That’s not-”_ _

__“It’s okay, I get it, I’m not judging you, but this isn’t magically fixed now, you can’t just carry round a jar of marbles forever, and Gertrude will probably kill me for getting you involved.”_ _

__Jon looked away awkwardly, feeling very small, and his neck twinged as he did so. “I know.”_ _

__“Okay. Good,” Gerry said in a slightly lighter tone, “do you need me to drop you back at your hotel?”_ _

__“Oh, uh, n-no, don’t worry about it, it’s not far from here anyway,” he replied looking around properly for the first time. He wondered if he only found it pretty because he didn’t live there._ _

__“Alright.” For some reason Jon felt disappointed at that. Had he expected Gerry to insist? Or hoped that he would? Gerry stood up awkwardly, bracing himself on the back of the bench, and Jon did the same, “I’ll see you soon?”_ _

__“That’s up to you. Last time you said that was four months ago,” Jon said, a little more coldly than he had intended._ _

__Gerry watched him for a few seconds. “See you soon, Jon. Safe journey home.”_ _

__“You too.”_ _

__They both walked in opposite directions, Jon clutching his bag tight, and going as fast as he could manage back to his hotel._ _

__When he got into his room, he found the sodden clothes that he’d left on the floor hours earlier, which he forced himself to pick up and hang over the chair to dry. Jon got straight into his pyjamas without taking his bag off his shoulder. He sat down to rummage through it, and found the jar. He didn’t look carefully, just took one out and tucked it in his pocket, before returning the jar, but as he did, his eye caught on a polythene shopping bag which he took out. Inside was a small yellow book, and an old wooden picture frame._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: claustrophobia, Jon is under the influence of a Vast/Buried related artifact, brief non-sexual non-consensual touching of a touch averse character
> 
> Am i gonna keep making up a bunch of artifacts? apparently. do i now know more about trans groups in london than in my own city? Yes. every single ace person within a thousand mile radius is projecting onto jon, (and various other characters) so i decided it was my turn, so now we have touch averse jon.  
> this chapter is now over twice the length i originally intended, but it just would not end, and i couldn’t leave jon all cursed (mostly bc i didn’t want to have to spend another week dealing with it), and not at all where i expected it to go.
> 
> also, some dialogue here is taken straight out of mag 111, i imagine the conversation here went similarly to how it did in that, except jon knew less to begin with. but we all know the entities so that saved me several hundred words.


End file.
